


Neuf

by purewanderlust



Series: Past and Forever [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 18:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: Most people couldn't pinpoint the exact moment they found their place in the world. Usually it was more of a gradual thing; one day you look up and realize you've been where you were meant to be all along.For Grantaire it was like a lightning strike, and it happened before the sun was even fully up on a hot June morning.





	Neuf

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fic for Barricade Day, but I didn't finish it in time! Un-betaed, apologies for any mistakes. Note: This is now the first fic in a reincarnation-AU 'verse. Keep your eyes open for the next installment!
> 
> If you like my work, please feel free to [ buy me a ko-fi ](https://ko-fi.com/purewanderlust)!

Most people couldn't pinpoint the exact moment they found their place in the world. Usually it was more of a gradual thing; one day you look up and realize you've been where you were meant to be all along.

At least that's how Grantaire had imagined it would go, if it ever happened. He'd always assumed he would be one of the unlucky few who never did find meaning in their life. He tended to be pessimistic like that.

It didn't help that today, of all days, he was opening at the cafe. Usually he didn't mind early mornings--it was hard to work as a barista if you did. But he’d barely slept last night and the few times he'd managed to doze off had been plagued with nightmares.  It was like clockwork at this point; the first few days of summer were always difficult for some mysterious reason. Seasonal affective bullshit, if his doctor was to be believed.

Grantaire  _ didn't _ believe him, but it hardly mattered. The sun would rise again tomorrow, regardless of whether he felt like his world was ending.

In fact, the sun was creeping over the horizon now, an I-told-you-so, courtesy of Mother Nature herself. Grantaire rubbed absently at the aching spot on his sternum and flipped the switch to start up the espresso machine. He needed caffeine if he was going to get through this day.

The tinkling of the bell over the front door alerted him to his first customers of the day. Grantaire raised his eyebrows, turning to see who had walked in literally the moment he opened. Usually even the major addicts gave him twenty minutes before they were clamoring for their fix.

“Hey Grantaire, good morning!” 

Grantaire's shoulders relaxed and--wonder of wonders--he felt a small smile form on his face. “Hi, Courfeyrac.”

“You remember!” Courfeyrac beamed at him, all white teeth and dark, curly hair.

Of course Grantaire remembered. Courfeyrac had wandered in for the first time three days ago and immediately taken a shine to Grantaire. He talked to him like they were old friends and didn't seem put off by his brusque nature. Grantaire had felt at ease around him in a way he didn't normally experience with complete strangers. He'd been inexplicably pleased when Courfeyrac returned the next day.  Yesterday, when Grantaire had been overwhelmed with an unnameable anxiety, he had never appeared. Disappointment had dogged him all afternoon, combining with his anxiety to make him even more miserable than usual.

Grantaire couldn't admit any of that to someone he barely knew, so he just smirked. “You've got a memorable voice. And by memorable, I mean loud.”

If Courfeyrac picked up on the sarcasm, he didn't let it show. “I brought a friend who wanted to meet you!”

“You talk to your friends about your barista?” Grantaire scoffed.

“Well, you make really good coffee,” Courfeyrac responded. He stepped through the doorframe and Grantaire suddenly had a line of vision to his friend.

The guy looked like a Greek god. He was tall and lithe with bronze skin and long golden curls tied back in a low ponytail. The rising sun limned him in white light, which just added to the effect. He also looked inexplicably nervous, hands twisting at the hem of his red t-shirt.

“Hi,” he murmured, joining Courfeyrac at the counter. “I'm Enjolras.”

“Grantaire,” he heard himself respond. He knew he was gaping, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. There was an expectant beat of silence. “Uhh, can I take your order?”

Courfeyrac frowned, glancing between them. It was the first time Grantaire had seen the expression on his face and it didn't suit him at all. “What, that's it?”

“What's it?” Grantaire asked, bewildered.

“Leave it, Courf.” Enjolras said sharply. Then to Grantaire: “Can I get a cappuccino, please? And a caramel latte for him.”

Grantaire nodded, grateful for the out. “Sure thing.” He busied himself at the espresso machine, trying not to listen in on their whispered conversation. Courfeyrac was still pouting at Enjolras.

“I know I'm right!” Grantaire heard him say over the hiss of the steamer. “Just look at him!”

“Can we please discuss this later?” Enjolras replied in an undertone. He sounded weary.

Courfeyrac opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but Grantaire cut him off. “Drinks are ready!”

“Thank you so much,” Enjolras said exceedingly polite. He reached for his wallet. How much do I owe you?”

Grantaire shook his head. Enjolras was wearing an expression of gentle disappointment and he felt responsible. Suddenly, he desperately wanted to make it go away. “It's on the house.”

Enjolras’ eyes widened. They were impossibly blue. Looking at him made Grantaire's chest hurt. “Oh, I couldn't.”

“Sure you can,” Grantaire argued, biting back the urge to keep him here longer. He rolled his eyes instead, picking up the cappuccino. “You just take this...and then you drink it, and voila!”

Enjolras hesitated a split-second longer before he reached for the cup. His fingers were warm where they brushed against Grantaire's.

The world exploded. Grantaire was aware of the cup slipping from his grasp, but he couldn't move to catch it. The air smelled like gunpowder and blood. He saw a flash of red and gold and heard his own voice, as though from very far away. 

_ “Vive la revolution!” _

A hand clasped his own and his heart leapt in his chest. Then pain ripped through him and all was dark.

Grantaire's eyes were closed. With what felt like a monumental effort, he forced them open. He was on his knees, behind the counter of the cafe where he worked, one hand clawing at the ghost of a bullet wound in his chest. Enjolras was kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders. He must've jumped over the counter. His eyes were knowing, anguished.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire sobbed, collapsing forward against his chest. Instantly, Enjolras’ arms were around him, pulling him in and holding him tightly. He murmured nonsense against the crown of Grantaire's head, one hand stroking up and down his back while he cried.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. No customers came to bother him and if Courfeyrac was still there, he kept his distance while Grantaire mourned for things that had happened almost two-hundred years ago.

Eventually he pulled back from Enjolras’ embrace and looked him in the eyes. “I remember everything,” he whispered unnecessarily.

Enjolras’ answering grin was radiant. “I knew you would.”

It was such a typical Enjolras response; optimism in the face of ridiculous odds. Grantaire felt a weird euphoria bubbling up in him in response to the reassurance that Enjolras was the same hopeless idealist he'd always been. He giggled, a little manic. 

“God, I love you.” he blurted, and immediately regretted it. Though it had never been particularly secret, even back then, it wasn't something he'd ever planned on saying out loud, especially to Enjolras himself. Courfeyrac, still hovering out of sight on the other side of the counter, seemed to be equally shocked, if the undignified bleat he let out was any indication.

Enjolras smile didn't falter, though the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears went suspiciously pink. He laced his fingers through Grantaire's and squeezed his hand. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said quietly. “But I think, if you’re up for it, we should go see the others first. When Courfeyrac said he'd found you, it was all we could do to keep Joly and Bossuet from coming here with us.”

Grantaire felt his eyes welling up with tears again, but brushing them away would've meant letting go of Enjolras, and that simply wasn't an option. “How many are there?”

Enjolras grin widened and he thumbed away Grantaire’s tears with his free hand. “We've found everyone else. You're the last. I--We've been looking everywhere for you.”

“Reincarnation.” Grantaire shook his head. “I don't--”

“Believe it?” Enjolras guessed, quirking an eyebrow at him. Grantaire laughed out loud.

“I guess my days off not believing anything are over,” he chuckled. “I can't say I'm too sorry about that.”

Enjolras beamed at him. “I'm definitely not.”

Courfeyrac's head popped over the counter. “Alright, if you're done with this frankly underwhelming love fest, let's go home. Eponine and Bahorel are both texting me very creative threats if they don't get to see R soon. Besides, that floor is filthy.”

Enjolras climbed to his feet, and since he was still holding Grantaire's hand, he allowed himself to be pulled upright as well.

“I have to work, Courf.”

Courfeyrac waved a dismissive hand. “I used to date one of the other baristas who was working with you the other day. We're friends. Told him you’re sick. He said he'd come cover for you.”

“C’mon,” Enjolras said, tugging Grantaire towards the door. “Let's go see our friends.”

And Grantaire, finally having found the people who brought meaning into his life, couldn’t possibly refuse.

“Okay,” he said. His cheeks were starting to ache from how hard he was smiling. “Let's go.”

  
  



End file.
